Shades of Orange
by OrangeLovePerson
Summary: After changing her parents' memories in "Deathly Hallows", Hermione's glad to find some comfort in the arms of her favourite Weasley.


**_Shades of Orange_**

 _(Part 1: Hermione)_

"You're brilliant.", he murmurs, his hands gliding up and down my back in a sweet caress, while his warm breath grazes the skin of my neck, ever so slightly. He's bent forward, his nose touching the messy curls that are my hair. And he is breathing deeply, as if the mere smell of them was completely intoxicating to him.

Or perhaps, he just wants to set a good example, in case I forget to breathe properly, once again. I'm not gasping for air, any more,- thanks to him, - but I still find it hard not to pant hysterically, whenever my thoughts creep back to the events of earlier tonight, to the reason I'm feeling the way I do, right now,.. cruel and lonely and … - Ron is pulling me closer to him, right then - … _safe_.

"It's okay, Hermione.", he says, his voice still gentle and quiet in my left ear and his long fingers still lightly fondling my shoulders, and when he says it like that, it really sounds true. _It's okay._

"You did the right thing, and everything will be fine soon. You did the right thing."

Did I, though? Was it right to sneak into my parents bedroom, in the middle of the night, like some creepy housebreaker, and to change their identities for them? Their whole identities! If I die during the war, which isn't that far-fetched, but an actual possibility, then they'll never be themselves again. They'll be happy, and they'll have a certain resemblance to the people they used to be, but never will they be the way they were, ever again. They won't mourn me, either, they won't miss me, they won't know about the fact that I ever existed.

Ron is pulling me tighter towards his chest, and softly he's rubbing little circles on my back with his thumb. He must have felt me starting to freak out, again.

 _I know that I did the right thing_ , I think, as I press my tear-strained face against Ron's shoulder. I know that they were in danger, before, and I know that there were no real other options. They needed to get new names, needed to move, needed to get as undiscoverable as I could manage. I know that I couldn't just tell them about these things, because I played it all out, in my head, from all kinds of different angles, and I know exactly, what would have happened.

If I'd told them about the real amount of danger the world's in, they'd have been hysterical and fearful. They'd never let me go to help Harry. I would have had to run away, and instead of moving to another continent and change their names, they might have ended up starting some kind of huge search for their (in their eyes) still underage daughter, in the Muggle media, or something like that. So I had to play under my own rules. I had to do this, and I had to do this without their permission, because they'd never understand.

So, yeah. I guess, I did the right thing, but it's so hard to see it like that when I might have lost my entire family, in a way...

\- Ron's lips graze my earlobe, for a split second, and despite everything, I have to suppress a pleasant shudder... -

alright, so maybe not my _entire_ family.

The hardest part was the time afterwards.

After changing my parents' minds in the middle of the night, I knew I still had to do so much other stuff in the house in order to make my plan really work. Things, that hadn't been possible for me to do, while they were still themselves.

So I set a dormancy spell on them, that would keep them sleeping for another 15 or 20 hours, and finished my target. I needed to change their names on all kinds of documents, certificates and papers; had to erase myself from all kinds of photos everywhere in the house; had to post off some letters to our few relatives (and to some of my parents favourite staff members in their dental surgery), which explained my parents' sudden absence in an almost believable way; and I also ordered a pantechnicon on their costs, already, since I wanted them to move away as quickly as possible. I was doing these things feeling like a Zombie, or like someone recently kissed by a Dementor. There was no room to break down, yet, there were still too many tasks at hand. And I'm someone, who always concentrates on those, first of all. But it was the weirdest feeling, that was creeping up my inside. When I changed their minds, I felt like I was losing my own.

"You truly are brilliant, Hermione.", he repeats, then. "And your parents will understand. They will be proud of you for protecting them."

When has Ron learned to be this way,- to be all gentle, and insightful, and all the other things I need him to be, right now? Has he always been this way, deep down? Was he only waiting to really show me this side of him, as soon as he was ready for it? Grown-up enough for it? Or was I too blind to see that, before; was I not letting him get close to me the way I do now?

Perhaps, we needed all the drama from last year, to get right here. And if he's holding me like this, now, because of it, perhaps it's okay that it all happened in the first place.

After everything with my parents, the sun was almost setting, outside, immersing the sky in the most beautiful shades of orange. And all I wanted to do then was to be right here, in the middle of Ron's ridiculously orange bedroom, engulfed by his arms. So I grabbed my baggage and I apparated here. And he actually engulfed me in his arms, in the matter of seconds, as the first tears streamed down my cheeks and as my lips started to quiver in little sobs. Now, about fifteen or twenty or a billion minutes later, I probably look blotchy and red and pathetic, but he's still holding me tight, all the same.

I realise, all of the sudden, that we never really hugged for that long, before, and that it also didn't ever feel as intimate as it does now. It reminds me of Dumbledore's funeral, but even then I didn't dare to press myself as near to him, as I do now. Being so close to him is strange and wonderful.

 _He probably has a cramp in his neck, already, from arching down so much_ , I notice, but I can't really bring myself to feel sorry for our height-difference. I love his tall, lanky frame, his freckles and his red hair; I love his stubbornness; his charm, his humour, his long nose and the way his slightly over-sized fingertips touch my goose-bumps covered, shuddering body right now. Even so close to him, in his dusty, muggy room, I can't seem to get warm enough. A part of me wants to pull him over to his bed, and to curl myself together in his arms entirely, on his lap. But that part's surrounded by other, stronger parts of me that would never dare to do that. It's okay though. Standing there with him is enough.

The point his, I love everything of him, and I wouldn't ever change a thing about him, even the things that annoy me, sometimes. Well, perhaps I would try to change a thing or two, but not in the way Madame Pomfrey changed my teeth in fourth year, or anything like that. Rather in the way Ron's changing me right now, taking my fear away and replacing it with his presence.

I really feel, like I love him, right now. And if I dared, I could lean the fraction of an inch in and whisper these words right into his ear. And perhaps, he wouldn't even let go of me then.

But I don't tell him, (yet), and at one point, I decide to let go of him.

I take a step back and release his shoulders, and his arms slacken around me and fall to his side. He looks concerned, worriedly staring down at me, and his eyes are so blue and his room is so orange, while the sky outside isn't, any more.

"You okay?", he asks, his voice still so gentle and still so close, and I want the hug to still be lasting, - want to still be inside the limits of his arms, only to find out when _he_ 'd have stopped, if _I_ hadn't.

"M-hm.", I answer, deeply breathing in and out once more and smiling up at him. "Sorry for that.", I silently croak.

"For what?", he asks, perplexed, and I almost laugh at that.

"Oh, I don't know, Ron. For suddenly turning up and then going completely hysterical in your room?"

"Anytime, Hermione.", he grins. "Seriously."

I hug him one more time, then, briefly, because I'm so grateful for everything he's been doing, and for the fact that he will be right there, wherever the three of us might be going, soon. I want to tell him what this means to me, but even if there were words for what I'm feeling, I probably wouldn't get them out of my mouth. At least not right now.

"So, as far as I'm concerned, I think there are two options for us to choose from, right now.", Ron says, as soon as I let go of him, once again.

"You could either go downstairs with me, greet everyone and get some dinner, and then go to sleep in Ginny's room, or...", his ears turn a little red, I notice, "You could, you know, get some rest.. No offense, but you look completely exhausted, to be honest, and if you rather, you know... Have me bring some food upstairs for you... You could sleep inhere, and then apparate in front of the Burrow with all your stuff in the morning..."

Now his ears and his face really are entirely red, but he still nervously babbles on. He's adorable.

"...Don't worry, I've got a sleeping bag and loads of pillows in the attic, so it's not like, you now... er... But only if you want to, of course! I mean, we could also just go downstairs, normally, I just thought, perhaps...", - I interrupt his cute drivel.

"I'm for option two.", I say, grabbing my luggage and pulling it next to his bed, while an enlightened beam spreads on his face.

Half an hour later, I'm sitting on his bed, wearing my pyjamas and enjoying the uniquely delicious cuisine of Molly Weasley. Two hours ago, I felt so gross and awkward that I never wanted to eat anything ever again, but now, a whole day without food has caught up with me.

Ron's sitting across from me, the huge pillows underneath his sleeping back and his natural tallness making us talk at the same eye level. It took him the better part of ten minutes to convince me to take his comfortable bed, instead of him, but really, I'm glad he won that discussion. His pillows and sheets smell so much like him that they might help me to fall asleep, later.

He's telling me all kinds of stories, while we eat, and afterwards he laughs at me for insisting to go brush my teeth, even under such circumstances, - but I still go, of course, since dental care is an important thing.

And then, as we lay there in the dark, at one point, and as the weight of the world is about to crash down on me again, I feel his hand grab mine and his fingers curl around my own. And it's too dark, in here, with the closed curtains, to even make out his face as I turn my head. But his fingers are still warmly pressing against mine, and his huge palm is warm and slightly sweaty against my smaller one. And I still know that he's right there, next to me. Although I don't see anything.

And, right now, all I want is for some things to always be like this.

* * *

 _Hey, guys :) I know, I know, it's been done often already, but this is my take on Hermione arriving at Ron's place in book seven. I hope you liked it :) There will be a seond part from Ron's point of view. Reviews would be cool, of course. :D Have a nice day or night :3_


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